


you're the antidote to everything

by compost, uwu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety/Panic Attack, Cuddling, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compost/pseuds/compost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwu/pseuds/uwu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panic attacks and cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [compost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/compost/gifts).



> started writing a fic for jay and then they wrote half of it????? jay pls

He feels like he’s dying. Which -- you know -- not the best way to wake up from a nightmare. He can feel his heart beating out a weak pulse far faster than it should be, feel the arc reactor over it. And he knows how this goes, there’s sweat and shaking; feeling like you can’t catch your breath. And even though he knows this, knows he’s not gonna die, it won’t last more than an hour he can’t help but -

_can’t breathe can't breathe I can't fucking breathe fuck fuck fuck_

He feels clammy, and his hands are shaking so much he can’t get out of his sheets. He can hear his breathing getting more and more ragged; and it just fucking figures he couldn’t have slept through the worst part of this had to go through it and deal with the aftershocks. He’s burning up and too cold, and feels like he’s got a fever in his entire body. He’ll never get over how it feels, no matter how many times it happens nothing will ever prepare him for it.

And to make matters worse, that's when Steve walks in.

He can’t catch his breath enough to say anything; stuck there gasping and helpless and exposed.  

“Tony? Tony!” He hardly registers the hands that are frantically placed on his shoulders, everything is blurred and isn’t that a shame because he’d love to be able to see Steve’s baby blue’s right now. Steve’s hands are firm on his shoulders, one coming to smooth his hair back as Tony gathers himself as much as he can, eyes adjusting to the dark of the room and making out Steve’s form over him with concern etched into the lines of his face.

It’s times like this Tony remembers how old Steve is, fuck, how old _he_ is. How long he’s been doing this whole life thing, and maybe it would have been better if he died of alcohol poisoning when he was a teenager. But that thought is promptly taken out of his mind when Steve’s voice breaks through his haze, “Tony? Are you alright, can you hear me?”

“Yeah...yeah, I can, yeah.” Tony is proud of the way his voice only wobbles a little bit. It was a little bit. Maybe it cracked a bit at first but he’ll blame sleep on that and not the way Steve’s eyes looked so genuinely concerned for Tony as he settled a hand on the side of his neck (his pulse, he’s feeling his pulse, fuck).

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief, not removing his hand though, feeling as Tony’s pulse comes down. “Does this happen often?” No judgement in his voice, nothing but concern and something like understanding.

“As of recently, yes, but it’s totally fine you know you can just, go anytime now I think I’m good. Thanks, uh, for, whatever it is that you were doing, it was totally working. Good man, Steve.” Tony’s doing his damndest of not looking at Steve in the eyes because who the hell knows what’s coming out of his mouth at this point.

But Steve still had his (warm, large, surprisingly soft) hand pressed firmly into the junction where Tony’s neck meets his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart and was he having another panic attack? Fuck, he was hot all over, his breathing picking up at the intimacy of this and that wasn’t a word Tony had in his vocabulary. Steve wasn’t saying anything, he was still just leaning over Tony, searching his face with his eyes, eyes concerned and something like sadness in them as well.

“I was around this a lot, you know, back during the war. Usually we didn’t talk about it, the men were all used to waking up in a cold sweat by then. I never thought that was any fair. Who knows how long that kept them up, if they lived the rest of their lives jumping up at loud bangs, all for what?” Tony stared up at Steve curiously, who was now sat on the edge of the bed, the thumb of his hand unconsciously rubbing circles into Tony’s collarbone. “Sometimes I’ll wake up and all I can taste is the water in my mouth. Feel the ice seeping into my lungs. Whatever wakes you up at night, Tony, you’re not alone in this. Don’t shake me off because of your pride, there’s nothing wrong with asking for help every once in a while.”

For once in his life, Tony didn’t know what the hell to say. To any of that, really. Steve was just gazing at him with that sad look in his eyes again, and Tony really didn’t like that look on Steve. Tony brought his hand up to cover the one Steve still has on his neck, breathing out slowly through his nose.

“We’re just two messed up peas in a ‘shitty past’ pod, eh, Cap?” That brought a corner of Steve’s mouth up, and Tony smiled back fondly, squeezing Steve’s hand before releasing it. And now it was awkward. Or, Tony thought it was awkward, you know, Captain America sitting on the side of your bed after he just saw you at the end of a panic attack awkward.

“Well, uh-” the words died in his throat as he felt Steve’s finger tracing the edges of the arc reactor through his pajama shirt.

“I like this. It’s keeping you alive, right?”

“Keeps the shrapnel from entering my heart, yep. Got it in one.” Tony’s voice did not waver. “You, uh, gonna go back to yours now? I think I’m good to go back to sleep now.” And by sleep Tony means begin at least five new projects.

“Thought you might appreciate the company.” Tony was almost going to say ‘Well, you thought wrong,” but that would be a complete lie. He would be a lying liar who lies about how much he wants Cap to stay here for the rest of the night and put his stupidly warm hands back over Tony’s pulse with his stupidly concerned blue eyes and - yeah, this was definitely a problem.

And thats when Cap (no, Steve) _climbs into the bed_ with Tony. _Captain America_ climbs into bed with him and wraps around him? What. His brain short circuits at Steve’s warmth lining up alongside his, arm securing around Tony’s middle  (and he’s the little spoon; to add insult to injury, but. It is -- nice).  

He can tell that this is (one of the few) things that Steve is better at than him; growing up like Tony did, didn’t exactly lend a lot of time to cuddling. He’s sure though, that if he had known how good it felt, he would’ve pushed a little harder for it (for any kind of human contact really). He sinks into Steve, the warmth, and physical contact a balm on his shaky nerves; like he was pulled apart and open for all the world to see and Steve’s covering him up. They’re in a world of just the two of them, where it doesn’t matter that Steve grew up before the polio vaccine, and the banana plague; it doesn’t matter that Tony’s got a magnet in his chest keeping him alive. All that matters is Steve tugging him closer, nuzzling into his neck, and that Tony’s stopped shaking.

And he wants to lose himself in it, lose his responsibilities and worries; just be him and Steve.

Tony Stark is many things, but a stupid isn’t one of those things; he knows what he’s feeling right now, and it isn’t just platonic love. But that’s ok, because that’s not what matters right now; it doesn’t matter that he’s halfway to head over heels for Steve, all that matters is this. Steve’s arm around his waist, his breath on his neck; his warmth surrounding Tony. And he’s never been more content.


	2. in the end everything collides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jay's helping me practice writing cuddles and cutesy stuff

  
He can’t feel his arm. Well, he can feel something warm and _heavy_ on it but besides that it's numb. And then the heavy thing moves and Tony almost flings himself out of the bed and calls for the Mark forty-something now, but instead he sees soft tufts of blonde hair and 300 pounds of super-soldier beside him and stops.

He breathes a few times and decides that Steve Rogers looks absolutely adorable in the mornings lying on his stomach with almost his entire face smushed into the pillow, and that his arm can deal with being numb if it’s smushed under Captain America’s torso.

Steve is so close, their heads almost touching on their separate pillows, Steve’s arm tossed over Tony’s chest where he’s lying on his back; admittedly being a creeper gazing at Steve beside him.

And Tony could get used to this, Steve’s warm breath puffing over his cheek, his heat enveloping Tony like the coziest human body pillow ever.

Steve snuffles a bit, nuzzling his face further into the pillow and arm flexing around Tony before he turns his head to Tony’s full on, bright blue flickering open lazily to where Tony is staring right back. Steve runs his tongue over his lips before his mouth widens on a killer yawn that looked actually quite painful. But as his mouth closes it turns up into a smile, face softening before he slurs out, “Mornin.”

And, did Tony miss something here? Steve was acting like it was totally normal to wake up snuggling the guy you hardly speak with except for on life-threatening missions. But Steve was just looking at him with this soft, fond look in his eyes that caught the sun streaming in through the windows which was warming their skin.

“I, uh,” Tony cleared his throat, at a loss for words. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in this situation, and that’s when the events of last night came flooding in. “Sorry? I think. Didn’t mean to keep you from your own bed, I just. How long was I out for?”

“You’ve been asleep for nine hours and twenty-eight minutes, sir.” Jarvis supplied, and Tony blinked.

“Oh. It’s uh. Been a while since I’ve slept that long. Huh.” Tony dared to look Steve in the eyes again, but he just shifted, moving from where he was lying on his stomach to his side (Tony’s arm was free but ow ow ow pins and needles, fuck). Steve brought the hand that was wrapped around Tony’s torso up to the side of Tony’s neck, settling back where it had found a home last night on Tony’s pulse.

“Glad to hear that.” Steve said, and that’s when Tony shifted a little bit onto his side, mumbled “ _fuck it_.” and kissed him.

Probably not one of his finest moments, but the shocked sound Steve made in the back of his throat was totally worth it.  It was just a light connection of lips, the sound of Tony’s goatee scritching against Steve’s face and soft exhalations through their noses the only thing either could hear.

To be frank, Tony has no clue why the hell he did it, but hey, no take backs now. Steve’s mouth moved tentatively against Tony’s own and oh, that was good, he wasn’t pulling back and condemning Tony for corrupting him with the homosexual agenda or something.

Steve’s hand tightened its grip on Tony’s neck, palm pushing down further into the now rapid rushing of blood through his pulse. The kiss was chaste, and was over all too soon in Tony’s opinion, but Steve just broke their lips apart to slide his cheek against Tony’s; his lips dragging softly against Tony’s disheveled facial hair due to two days without upkeep.

A harsh breath forced itself out of Tony’s mouth at the sensation of Steve’s nose bumping into his own, smoothing up to the edge of his eyebrow, Steve’s lips brushing a small kiss under his eye.

Intimacy like this, fuck, Tony didn’t know if he could handle it. But Steve’s hand on his pulse was like a lifeline, regulating his heartbeat and keeping Tony from going over the edge and losing himself to his neurons going haywire in his brain.

Tony’s hand scrambled for something to hold on to, to hold on to Steve, and he was left clawing at Steve’s arm; moving it up to hold a death-grip on his shoulder.

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony chokes out his name as Steve places a feather light kiss to his lips once more before pulling away.

A furious blush was donning Steve’s cheeks, betraying the surprisingly self-assured moves he was pulling on Tony moments ago. “Well, that was uh, new.”

“Yeah. ‘Was pretty nice, if you ask me.” Steve said, one side of his mouth turning up, and maybe Steve Rogers wasn’t the guy Tony thought he knew. But Tony knew he wanted to see this Steve a lot more.

Tony smirked right back at him, “Oh, yes, I completely agree, Captain. Permission to continue?”

Steve rolled his eyes, moving the hand on Tony’s neck to cup his jaw, his other nudging at Tony’s waist before he got the picture and rolled over to settle himself on top of Steve.

Tony pressed their foreheads together for a moment, his eyes boring into Steve’s, thinking that _maybe just maybe this could be something more_ and _maybe I can make this work_.

“Permission granted.”

Tony smiled down at Steve, pressing kisses all over his face (more like pressing his teeth into Steve’s face since he couldn’t stop smiling). He didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get bigger -- his face already felt like it was gonna break -- but when Steve nuzzled up into his goatee, he did the impossible and smiled wider.

Tony didn’t quite know what to do in this situation, past experience not exactly lending him any help, but he could improvise. He could wrap his arms around Steve’s neck (one of his arms was still a little numb, but he could still move it) and press their foreheads together. Could lean into Steve as much as he could laying on top of him, without worrying about Steve not being able to take all his weight (super soldier, remember).

And Tony wants to kiss him, he’s usually a lot smoother than he’s been this entire time, but kissing he knows how to do. He can do this; can coax Steve into slow kisses, lazily pressing their lips together, the most innocent way Tony’s kissed in years. Tony draws his hands back from around Steve’s neck and brushes the backs of his hands against the warmth running through the skin in Steve’s cheeks.

He drags his hands from Steve’s cheeks to his hair, running through it while coaxing Steve into opening his mouth to let Tony in deeper for the kiss. Thumbing at Steve’s (out of this world) cheekbones, and playing with his hair. At the same time Steve hooks one arm around Tony’s waist, drawing him impossibly closer, pressing up into the kiss.

Tony just wants to stay like this for hours, Steve’s warmth surrounding him with his soft, breathy sighs he exhales into Tony’s mouth, his hands running up and down Tony’s back and fingertips tracing the curve of his spine. He knows he can’t though, they both have responsibilities, but he’ll stay here for as long as he can; avoiding the world together for once.

Tony presses a kiss to the freckle dotting Steve’s neck, “Coffee?” Steve sighs against Tony’s forehead, placing a kiss to his temple before nudging at Tony to pull away. “I mean, we don’t have to, obviously, we could just, you know,” Tony’s fingers nudge up the hem of Steve’s t-shirt, getting at the warm skin of his hipbone. “Stay here. All morning. All day, too, at that.”

Steve smiles at him, rolling his eyes fondly, but shakes his head. “Right, yeah, um, that works too.” Tony doesn’t even try to make eye contact with Steve at this point, its a wonder they managed to avoid the awkward morning after for this long.

Steve slides out of the bed with a grace no one should have, especially with bed head like that, and Tony feels his heart clench, looking at what he had for a brief moment and won’t ever have again (didn’t deserve it to begin with). Steve cuts through that train of thought by holding out his hand for Tony, “You comin’?”

Tony smiles.


End file.
